


Eat, Pair, Love

by aac7, storiesthestarstell



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: "it's a sothismas miracle!", F/M, Grinch is the new Teach, matchmaking shenanigans galore, no Hilda they're not in love the name Claudeleth is used solely for business purposes, red is the color of love (and murder), snacking spying and schemes oh my, the christmas au nobody asked for but you know what we're giving it to you anyways, the power of Byleth and Claude as they meddle in other people's lives and accidentally fall in love, tis the season to be a bully (to your friends), twelve days of crack energy before christmas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:21:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27636742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aac7/pseuds/aac7, https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesthestarstell/pseuds/storiesthestarstell
Summary: Christmas can mean a lot of things to different people.For some, it's an opportunity to spend time with your loved ones.For others, it's about spreading that festive cheer.And because of that, some reason, the people in Claude and Byleth's lives think that the season to be jolly is the perfect opportunity to meddle with their love lives. And sure, maybe you shouldn't be spending the holidays alone. But it doesn't mean that you'll automatically find the love of your life after one day with them, especially after such a disastrous first date.Or so it seems.After all, vengeance is only best served with good intentions, and when a series of coincidences line up between the people in their individual friend groups are realized, an alliance between Claude "I Meddle for a Living" von Riegan and Byleth "Fish Fear Me, Everyone Reveres Me." Eisner is struck.For the best gifts are given freely.And with the power of Claudeleth (no, Hilda, it's not their ship name) they'll let their friends have a taste of their own love-based medicine.Plus, who knows?Maybe after five dates and other winter nights spent together, they might see what all the fuss is about.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan, ho ho ho boy are there more couples yet to come
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25





	Eat, Pair, Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is early Christmas good for you? Byleth has some thoughts, and naturally Claude does too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We took our favourite things, (food, matchmaking, mistletoe kisses, and chaotic family dinners) made a Christmas playlist that slaps, and thought up some extremely self-indulgent holiday content.
> 
> A little modern Christmas AU from us to you. Happy Holidays!

The only problem Byleth had with Christmas, was that the colour scheme reminded her so much of traffic; for reds and greens would clash in a festive war of decorations across shop stalls, and the bright yellow lights strung in between just made her feel peer-pressured into spending far too much money under the reign of capitalism. All around her people flitted from store to store, spending exorbitant amounts of money purchasing gifts that would please members of oversized social circles and wines that would satisfy overcritical relatives. 

Now, it wasn't that Byleth absolutely hated festivity and merriment, she was simply one of the rare individuals that didn't believe in the two month long investment in such antics. Not just because it was wholly unnecessary, but because by starting early, it slowly dulled the appropriate phase in which it was meant to be celebrated. Christmas was a one and a half day celebration, but the second that Halloween was over, the Christmas apocalypse ensued, its commercialism overlooking the next actual holiday of Thanksgiving. When storing that year's spooky decor, the next thing that was dragged out wasn't a horn of plenty, but last year's artificial tree.

Seasonal chaos stemmed from those fake pine needles, commencing a series of unfortunate events as candy corn was replaced with candy canes, jack-o-lantern's in lawns were switched out for unreasonably large inflatable snowmen, and the far superior autumn palette was overlooked for a headache worthy mix of red and green. Who even came up with such a combination? 

Byleth didn't even want to get _started_ on the music. There weren't any chart-topping Thanksgiving hits, so she really couldn't fault it. But it was simply the final nail in the coffin; walking into a store in mid November and hearing songs about kissing Santa Claus. 

In conclusion, early Christmas festivity was overrated and Byleth was a killjoy. Sue her.

She slows to a stop at the apex of the streets Aegis and Pavise, unsurprised to find the window of the cafe storefront bordered with frost-tipped pine garlands and birch LEDs, accented by sprigs of holly and monochromatic ornaments. The special of the day - a classic peppermint hot chocolate - sits in the centre, its blocky letters written in an alternating pattern of red, white, and green.

When the misty cloud of her dramatic sigh dissipates, it's with great reluctance that her gloved fingers find the handle of the wreathed door, pushing it open and stepping into the cafe's warmth.

Claiming that she wasn't immediately allured by the scents of Christmas wafting through the air would be a lie. With a single inhale her senses were both comforted by warm vanilla and stimulated by something spiced with cinnamon, all of it drawn together by the underlying tone of fresh pine that she guessed was from the decorated tree in the corner.

She's not mad at the way this place looks. Instead of looking like the inside of Santa's workshop, it's simply reminiscent of winter on the mountainside. The overall lack of red is refreshing, and the focus on the earthly tones of evergreen and clean white does make for a palette that's much easier on the eyes. 

As Byleth sweeps the snow from her shoulders and unravels the scarf around her neck, she lets her eyes wander around the cafe, eventually zeroing in on a flash of red next to the window, where her blind date had said he would meet her.

Byleth squints, hoping that it's nothing more than a lone poinsettia added for a pop of colour. 

It's not, because with her luck _of course_ it's a Santa hat, and _of course_ the individual wearing it is waving her over to him.

She knows that it's bad to judge a book by its cover, but the effort of upholding the classic idiom is met with great resistance as she trudges towards him, unable to look past the Santa hat ruining what she could tell were perfectly tousled brown locks. By the goddess, they were still twelve days out from Christmas Eve. 

"Claude?" She asks, hoping her tone doesn't come out as harsh as she thinks. 

The fluffy white pom-pom atop the hat bobs as he shakes his head, green eyes (of course they're _green_ ) appraising her. The smile he sends her is akin to a shining star atop a Christmas tree; obnoxiously bright and stealing her focus. "That's right, although it seems appropriate that you call me Santa Claude in the spirit of the holidays."

Byleth nearly walks out, because _sweet Sothis above._

"I take it you’re Beth?"

They were off to a fabulous start, weren't they?

"Byleth." 

"Ah, sorry about that," he laughs, though he tries to pass it off as a cough once he realizes that she isn't amused. "Please, have a seat," he offers instead, as if she were awaiting the permission of someone who willingly called themselves 'Santa Claude,' and not considering making a break for the door.

But Byleth decides to suck it up, biting her tongue and shrugging her coat off. She neatly drapes it over the back of her chair before sitting, pinching and pulling at the fingertips of her gloves and laying the worn leather across her lap. 

Never one to start a conversation, she’s beyond relieved when Claude asks if she wants something to drink. 

“I’ll have a black coffee, thanks.”

His brows flick up. “Of all the things on the menu, you’re having a black coffee? Come on, I’m paying.” 

It isn’t a measure of financial woe, just preference. 

“I like black coffee.” It’s a staple in any sleep deprived master’s student’s morning routine. 

“But that’s so boring,” he argues. Byleth isn’t sure if he realizes that they’re on a date and he’s supposed to at least pretend to be interested. “It’s like going to a bar and asking for water.”

“Additives are unnecessary,” she answers simply. In the very tired words of one Jeralt Eisner, ‘Dammit Seteth. “You don’t mix good whiskey with coke.’” 

Claude must know that she’s right, because he retreats to the counter and returns a few moments later, placing an order number on the edge of their table. He then sets a small plate with a half dozen assortment of bars, brownies, and cookies between them. The smell alone is enough to make Byleth’s mouth water. 

“I didn’t know what you’d like, so I picked up a few different things. Consider it a peace offering.” 

If there was one way to Byleth’s heart, it was through her stomach. Maybe Santa Claude wasn’t so bad after all.

She’s in the middle of polishing off some kind of cranberry blondie bar when Claude decides to interrupt her bliss with _small talk._

“So, Hilda tells me that you’re a friend of Caspar’s?” 

‘Friend’ isn’t exactly how she would put it. After all, you didn’t really call the guy you established a mutual agreement to punch every Tuesday during workout sessions a ‘friend’. Because that implied you spent time with them outside the reasons that you interacted in the first place. 

So she decided to cut straight to the point, not unlike scissors cutting through ribbons--

But great, now she was even thinking in Christmas metaphors. Perhaps that’s why her tone is laced with brief annoyance.

“We have a mutually beneficial agreement.”

Claude pauses, fudge brownie halfway to his mouth, and quirks an eyebrow.

“I hope you’re aware of the implications of that sentence. Especially towards a _date_.”

Was this what he was always like then?

“We spar. That’s it.”

She resists the urge to frown at the way Claude smiles wryly at her, eyes never leaving her face when he takes a bite out of his treat. She hadn’t really meant to say other than the truth, but it seemed he was taking it way too much out of context.

“Oh, so you’re a fighter then? Respectable, but personally, I see myself as more of a lover.”

She goes for another treat then, but pauses, when she realizes the staggering ratio of gingerbread on the plate, and the way winter commercialism lined itself perfectly in the red and green colour dyes that hide within the construct of the desserts.

Byleth slowly retracts her hand. No, not today, Santa. 

“How do you know Hilda?”

“Oh, you know, from around. Here and there. We met during some point in my life.”

“So what, she was a stranger that was feeling festive, and promised you the night of your dreams?”

“Well, that’s still up for debate really.”

Byleth cuts him a glare that she usually reserves for third or fourth dates. How _dare_ he imply that she was anything but every man’s dream.

His guardian angel arrives dressed in an apron and wielding two mugs, saving her date from witty retort hanging on the tip of her tongue as she sets their drinks on the table.

It’s with great alarm that Byleth notices both oversized ceramic mugs are topped with a generous amount of whipped cream and sprinkled with crushed candy cane. This is not a black coffee. She looks desperately at the waitress.

“This isn’t--”

“Thank you ever so much for your service. Happy Holidays!”

Just who was this guy? Was he Santa’s minion?

Byleth uses her index finger to push the mug away from her. “That isn’t my drink.”

He pushes it back. “Well, actually, it is. I got it for you. Changed the order to something with a bit more festive spice.”

“I asked for a black coffee.”

“Which you can get at anytime during any generic day of the year!”

“You say that like today isn’t just a generic day of the year.”

“We’re officially less than two weeks out from Christmas. The next few days are anything but generic.”

Byleth swallows a sigh, choosing to look at the obnoxiously cheery drink. She couldn't even stare down the mysterious drink and figure out what it was, because of the obnoxious amount of whipped cream swirled perfectly over the reindeer-printed mug.

"You know, if you really don't want to drink it, I _can_ get you your basic black brew, I suppose. There’s no shame in admitting weakness."

The challenge in those irritatingly festive green eyes was clear. And Claude _clearly_ didn't know who she was.

For spite was a middle name, inherited through the bloodline she belonged to. And so, while locking eyes with Claude across the table, she lifted her cup to her lips, pretending that she was merely downing a mug of beer, and chugged.

By _Sothis_ , she regretted it, the second the drink actually flooded down her throat. And yes, it burned, but the pain stemmed more from her dislike of the sheer minty sweetness that her taste buds were involuntarily exposed to. The crushed candy cane and the whipped cream only just amplified the sugary sweetness, which made it worse.

Byleth had never been a fan of sweet _drinks_. Even so, she had never had such a monstrous beverage that would have guaranteed a dead sure path to cavities.

But spite won out in the end. 

Eyes still locked with Claude, Byleth licks her lips free of the whipped cream, and sets the ceramic mug down on the table, face utterly void of emotion, even if she feels like she's set half of her body's thermal system on fire. 

"That drink tasted like a one way ticket to hell, if the duration of the trip was spent over Christmas and trapped you well into the New Year along the way."

She expects a witty retort of some sort from her date, because if there's one trait she could discern from her interactions with Claude today, it was that he was, without a shadow of a doubt, the dictionary definition of a _nuisance_.

But Claude only studies her with something that's torn between awe and amusement, as he shakes his head and lets a laugh slip from lips that were stained with chocolate--

She avoids the gingerbread to snatch a brownie of her own, taking a bite into it. Yes, that was why she'd be looking at his mouth; she had just wanted one of those desserts for her own, to mask the minty aftertaste of the hot monstrosity she was forced to drink.

"You know, I really do have to ask, but would you happen to have a side hustle that involves you being the Grinch."

He seemed genuinely interested, grinning widely, with his arms folded back behind his head as though he had stumbled across a revolutionary secret.

But Byleth merely rolled her eyes in reply.

"No, I just think that Christmas festivities should be limited to a reasonable day and a half. Any longer takes away from the magic of the holidays."

"Celebrating Christmas early is good for the soul. Sitting in front of the fireplace listening to Christmas bops, as the kids say these days, while you trim the tree and indulge in milk and cookies."

Claude picks up a gingerbread man as he speaks, wrapping a thumb and an index finger around its waist as he makes it walk along the table towards him, with every point he makes.

"What’s not to love?"

He bites off the head of the gingerbread man then, winking at Byleth, who chooses to ignore him in favour of pointing to the view outside the window, where countless Christmas lights are draped around trees, eye-catching in their easy display.

And she did have fond memories of trees.

"See, all I pictured was the obvious fire hazard and a bad night, due to lactose intolerance and heartburn."

"Yikes, did a Christmas tree fall on you as a kid? Is that why you’re so bitter? You know, the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem."

Claude waves a gingerbread hand at Byleth, who remains unimpressed, as she watches him finish off his cookie victim.

"The only problem here is your need to mock me for having a different opinion than you do."

She nearly rolls her eyes when he presses a hand to his chest, as though she had knocked an invisible arrow straight to his heart and wounded him.

"You misunderstand me! It's merely a wish to know you better. Perhaps a little walk will help unlock your tragic backstory."

He extended his hand towards her, beaming wide and bright, but when she looked at those green eyes again, she saw the way the light of his smile did not reach them.

So Byleth pushed away his hand, and got up herself, sliding her gloves and her coat back onto her form.

"Perhaps it'll just keep it locked up tighter."

If she has offended him in any way, the laugh that comes from Claude has done well to hide any such feelings he may have had, for it is nothing but merry.

And how annoyingly fitting it was for the season.

**~~~**

The walk, however, ends up to be a bad idea, because they both slip on sleet-lined streets several times as the winter decides to grow harsher and handsier, with chills slipping through their warm clothing to send shivers throughout their body.

And the conversation?

Debate would be a more fitting term, though even that was suggesting there was order to their communication.

The sheer amount of contradictions in their opinions would be astonishing, if not for the fact that Byleth suspects half of Claude's answers are deliberately targeted into annoying her. She hadn't known him long, but the mismatched warmth in his gaze and grins already painted an obnoxious message of him being trouble, and that was something she was trying to avoid.

After all, she needed someone who was calm enough to handle the madness of the Eisner household. 

She hadn't cared in the past, when her great great grandmother Sothis--whose namesake was the goddess, and also claimed to be the goddess reborn--had always nagged her about being alone for the holidays, and about how third-wheeling her parents was bound to be boring, so she should go fall in love and let her parents catch up on years of proper bonding.

But that was until a few days ago.

Because Flayn.

Her _baby_ cousin.

Had somehow escaped out of her Seteth-built prison, security so finely scrutinized by her father, and found herself a _date_ to bring to the annual Eisner-Church Christmas dinner.

She had texted Byleth the news, in a lovingly chaotic message decorated in blue hearts, fish gifs, and exclamation points, and Byleth was hit with a realization with the severity of a barely dodged blow, that Sothis would double down on her and find her somebody herself.

Because the last person Sothis had tried to bully her into going out with was her longtime enemy Jeritza von Hrym, and Byleth had to explain to Sothis that a) considering him that light was always going to bring her nothing but waves of discomfort and disgust, and b) somehow, even _he_ was able to find a partner who genuinely loved him, and had been with him for years, despite being the most annoying person she'd ever met.

Until today, that is.

"Wait, are those Christmas carolers?"

Byleth internally groans at the excitement in Claude's voice, as she hears warning bells immediately go off in her head at the looming noise of festive music, like a shark slowly swimming towards its prey.

It wasn't even the Guardian Moon yet, for the goddess' sake. Why was there so much holiday music playing right now? Where was the need to respect proper timing?

"Come on, we have to go see it! Music is food for the soul. Perhaps it will bring a little cheer to yours."

Perhaps Jeritza finally had a contender for who could bother her the most in such a short period of time. Her phone rings then, and when she takes it out to look at the contact name, she resists the urge to sigh.

Speak of the devil, and he shall torment you. She takes a couple steps away from Claude before sliding her finger across the screen to accept the call.

"What do you want?"

"Are you done yet?"

The voice on the other side is as unsympathetic as always, and Byleth rolls her eyes instinctively at the response.

"You haven't answered my question, asshole. Maybe do that first, if you're still capable."

There's a long sigh, and Byleth can hear Jeritza talking to someone else in the background, as though he was being forced against his will to ask this of her. 

"I need you to drive me to the clinic. Éclair's got a fever. Edward lent his brother our car, and he doesn't want me on my bike in this weather."

Byleth distinctively hears Eddie call out his greetings from in the background, as well as a couple of well-coordinated meows, and despite her current poor temper, the mental image does make her feel a little better.

Plus, leaving one of their cat daughters sick would not bode well with her at all.

"I'll meet you in twenty."

She doesn't get a reply or thanks in response, merely hanged up on, and despite how normally that would be something she'd bully Jeritza about later, she realizes the timing of it all.

Finally.

An _escape_.

"My nemesis just called to ask me to drive him to the vet."

Claude raises an eyebrow at that.

"That's a lot to unpack there. But what for?"

"Hopefully to put him down. But I won't get my hopes up. Goodbye."

She turns to leave, glad that her ever monotonous tone was able to hide the relief she felt inside. But she's glad she knows who goes to rest a hand on her shoulder, because she might have flipped them to the curb beneath her feet otherwise.

The temptation still lingers when Claude asks his question.

"Wait, you're leaving right now? Seems kind of convenient, if you ask me."

"Excuse me?"

Byleth turns her head around, seeing the way Claude has now let go, only to fold his arms behind his head, the perfect picture of utter ease.

"We were just about to listen to some good ol' Christmas music, in person, yet here you are, escaping at the perfect time with a weirdly specific excuse to back up your claims."

His eyes scrutinize her, and for a moment, she only stares back, and they stand in the freezing winter air and barely avoid getting splashed by a car driving nearby.

_Who are you, Claude von Riegan?_

_And why are you such a clown for Christmas?_

"Still, who am I to stop animals from getting their proper treatment? Guess I'll just see ya around, Grinch. It's been interesting, to say the least."

Claude offers a little wave, a little smile of farewell, and it is only when he begins to whistle to the lyrics that are now being more loudly broadcasted by the carolers in the distance, does she catch onto the fact that he hadn't even called her by her name when he left.

And to add insult to injury, he even had a Christmas themed nickname for her.

The music follows her as she goes back the way she came, as she tucks her hands into her coat pockets, mind already brainstorming other possibilities to build up her Sothis-defenses. But the song's evil, catchy powers block out any further room for thought.

_"Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow~"_

"I really hope it doesn't any further."

Byleth mutters under her breath. Instantly, from above, snow comes crashing down onto her from a nearby tree branch, sending sharp chills down her spine, and she wonders at the cruel, karmic humour of the higher being that chose to torment her at this very moment.

Because Christmas was just not her thing.

And it would never be. 

So no random amount of falling snow could ever change that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cue meme of the kid with a trumpet following a girl down the street*


End file.
